Spitfire of Hamelin
by DRWPJT
Summary: Shepard only joined the military to escape a prison sentence. On Elysium the only life she'd cared about saving was her own but the press made her into a hero and the Alliance were forced to cover up her part on Torfan. She didn't even TRY to save Kaiden from the beacon, now she's a Spectre & he's got visions. My 1st attempt at renegade. Warning: Violence & rape from the start. AU
1. Chapter 1

It had been pure fucking stupidity. She didn't even know why she'd done it. Stupid fucking hormones! So much for the preservation of the species, her's seemed more focused on the death of an individual, namely her. She'd seen them drag the teenager in, knew what was in store for her, but so what? She'd seen them drag dozens of girls in over the years, never done anything stupid about it before. Shit, she couldn't exactly claim ignorance over what happened in there, one of her earliest memories was **being** one of the girls dragged in. She'd risen far since then. Her daring escape two years later had been short-lived, rounding a corner and running straight into the legs of O'Reilly, one of Tenth Street's top enforcers. A prepubescent girl was no match for three burly thugs but she wasn't going down without a fight. Somehow she'd drawn blood and impressed O'Reilly, instead of forcing her back to the 'club' he had taken her under his wing and she became 'Reilly's Little Spitfire'. For years she'd watched, copied and then surpassed those around her. Survival was a cutthroat business and she'd not only cut throats but capped knees and pulled off nails. She'd pedaled drugs and run guns, if the Reds dealt in it then she'd escorted it.

Normally she just stayed away from Sixth street. It wasn't that she was scared of the place, the so called 'Tenth Street Reds' turf actually ranged from Fourth right through to Twelfth, and very few people inside that line would risk messing with her level of ink. It was simply easier that way. She didn't have the best of memories of the place and their business wasn't her business. Today however, it was. Basic escort, simple drug deal. So simple in fact it was over and done with inside ten minutes. She had over an hour until her next job so she relaxed, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. A transport pulled up outside the building opposite and started unloading it's cargo. There weren't that many, mostly youngsters, pale faced from lack of sunlight; vent crawlers and sewer walkers probably. She flicked away her cigarette, preparing to leave, but as she turned she caught a glimpse of the last one out and paused, she was different...

This girl had to be her age, possibly even slightly older, and she certainly wasn't from around here. Good clothes, good hair, enough of the right kinds of food for her skin to practically shine. Spitfire felt a wave of desire spark through her, she'd never had a reaction to a person that intensely before but fuck did she want that girl. Of course all she had to do was go inside and wait in line. They never took long to start breaking in new 'merchandise' and they would keep going long after the girls broke. It wasn't her street, not her place, but with her tats they had to offer some respect. Tattoos in the Reds weren't just for decoration. Each symbol told a story, **if** you knew how to read them; a list of accomplishments and commendations. Spitfire's made for quite a read, covering her right shoulder and trailing down both her inner and outer arm, stopping a mere two inches short of her wrist. More than enough cred for her to join the party, could probably cut in quite close to the top of the queue as well. Primal urges were coursing through her veins. Indecent thoughts flitting through her mind. She found herself walking towards the warehouse.

...

The guard on door duty sized up the approaching figure, it was always hard to judge age on the streets but he would have guessed mid to late teens, the black tank top covering up but failing to hide the shape of breasts. Before he could spend anymore time thinking about her womanly qualities he caught sight of her arm, eyes widening as he read her ink. He was in his twenties but she already had far more than him. This was one woman he definitely wouldn't be fucking with, not in any definition of the word. He looked up to her face, dirty brown hair hacked short, a vicious looking scar by one eye. The eyes themselves were brown and filled with lust, he gave a chuckle as he stepped aside to let her in, vaguely wondering which piece of ass had been unfortunate enough to catch her attention. Whoever it was, he doubted she'd have to wait long to try a slice.

...

Spitfire's pace slowed as she entered the warehouse proper. Last time she'd been in one of these she had been on the other end of the power struggle. Too young, too small, too **weak** to resist as she was introduced to a world of fear and pain. Her legs wobbled slightly at the memories, stomach turning, luckily no-one had seen her yet, she could still leave unobserved. There were other ways out the building that didn't involve walking past the same guard. Nobody needed to know of her weakness, the fact she hadn't followed through on something. Her reputation would stay intact. Reputation was the key to survival on the streets and so far she had managed to survive in style. As she turned her eyes caught sight of something metal in the corner, her abdomen flaring with ghost pain as she remembered it. The brand. The 'reward' for surviving the breaking in. A scream from behind informed her that the top dog of this particular group of bastards had chosen his first victim, every instinct in her body was yelling at her to get out. Instead, without even thinking it through, she whistled.

It was a simple tune. One that every Red knew. And one that definitely wasn't hers to use. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing immediately. The no.1 even pulling out of the sobbing mess that until recently had been an innocent little girl. He may have had precedence in this street but nobody nowhere had a higher claim than Kray. Spitfire suddenly realised she didn't have a plan. Every eye in the room was fixed on her; the girls' filled with fear, a few of the more naive ones starting to gain a small glimmer of hope. The Reds eyes turning to anger as they saw it was her instead of the boss of bosses. Needless to say... Things got a little violent.

...

 _Why the fuck did I whistle? Impersonating a higher rank, I pretty much just signed my own death warrant_ , she thought bitterly as she walked through the streets. Some of the vent crawlers had been smart enough to scarper during the fight, but when she rose, bloodied and victorious, there was still a small group of girls huddled in the corner. The object of her desire among them. She told them they best start running and they just looked at her. _Do these people have no sense of survival?_ Not that **she** could talk apparently. What the fuck had she just done?

She left the warehouse, thoughts flying panicked through her mind. The Reds would kill her. Loss of revenue was serious but not so bad, it would have had the Sixth after her but other streets would have given her safe harbour. Same with the beatings and deaths. Everyone had enemies, some people would profit from the upheaval and they'd be more than willing to add her to their retinue. Using Kray's whistle though... That was unforgivable. No-one would risk pissing Kray off by taking her in. It took her a moment to realise the kids were following her. She told them in no uncertain terms to fuck off, STILL they did not take the hint.

Then her nemesis, that temptress, the cause of all her problems stepped forward and asked her to help them. Get them out the Red's turf and somewhere safe, the sheer gall.

...

"... like in the pied piper of Hamelin-" The voice was almost as pretty as her face, at least that was what Spitfire had thought when she first spoke, by now the incessant noise was pissing her off.

"What the fuck are you babbling on about?"

"You know the whistling and then leading the children out. I suppose in a way you even took care of the rats." Spitfire glared at her, still lacking comprehension before turning and continuing to walk, a general scrabbling signifying that the others were still following.

"Life ain't a goddamn fairy tale Princess."

...

"Thanks" They were within sight of civilization now, a security checkpoint just about visible in the distance, she'd be able to make it from here and it was clear that the gangbanger wasn't too keen on going any further. Her fellow escapees had already taken their leave at various points along their journey, not saying a word just simply slipping away into the twilight. She pressed a light kiss to the other girl's cheek in gratitude and the dam holding back her unlikely savior's pent up desire broke. A hand to her arm spun her round, the street rat's body walking forward and pressing her back against the wall, hungry lips crashing down on their counterparts. At first almost instinctively she gave tentative signs of reciprocation, then as wandering hands found their way under her shirt and started groping her breasts she froze, the full severity of the situation finally dawning on her. Spitfire continued on oblivious, mouth working its way across the collarbone, left hand still kneading away while the right trailed down over the rigid body, dipping into her pants. At last a frightened whimper broke through her horrified silence, eliciting a low growl in return as Spitfire sunk her teeth into a silky smooth shoulder before her tongue traced its way back up her victim's neck in a single long lick. Terrified emeralds gazed into feral brown eyes smoldering with lust.

"No..." She finally managed to croak out actual words and the beast before her tilted its head. "Please god no..." She continued her desperate chant as the right hand ceased its descent and reversed direction; a single finger trailing its way up over her abdomen, circling once around a breast and up until it clutched at her throat cutting off her pleas. The whole time she'd been under scrutiny from those terrifying eyes, the head tilting slightly side to side every now and again. Unable to speak, tears streamed silently down her face and she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the sight before her. Suddenly the pressure lifted from her throat, a heavy thump sounding just to the left of her head. When she opened her eyes she found the other girl's scrunched tight, right fist leaning against the wall beside her head, left dangling at the street rat's side, leaving a small avenue of escape between their bodies. She stood stock still debating what to do, she thought she'd taken too long and missed her chance when the left arm moved but it pointed out to safety.

"Go Princess." The voice was low and gravelly and every word sounded forced. "Get out of here while you still can." She didn't voice her thanks this time, and she sure as hell didn't make physical contact as she ran for safety. She spared neither a thought nor a glance behind her for the troubled teen whose world had been torn apart, focusing purely on making it out the urban wasteland and past the checkpoint back into civilization. Meanwhile Spitfire collapsed to the ground, head spinning. Others may consider the gangs brutal but it was the only life she knew and now she'd fucked it up. She could conquer every gang territory between here and the Red's and present them as tribute and it still wouldn't be enough to absolve her from Kray. As she sat there contemplating her chances of survival two thoughts repeated more than all others: _What the hell do I do now?_ and _Why the fuck did I whistle?_


	2. Chapter 2

David Anderson walked briskly down the civilised streets of his home planet. Humanity's place in the galaxy may be improving but on Earth the gap between the haves and have-nots was only getting worse. Despite the apparent peace and prosperity he walked through he knew that less than 30 miles away was the urban wasteland, a vast desolation outside the protection of local authorities. Streets carved up by various gangs, the people who were forced to survive out there made the vorcha seem enlightened and batarians look like saints. Someone bumped into him, he glanced quickly at the people around him but no-one apologised, unusual for this part of town, then he saw her. The teenager was taking care not to appear suspicious, not running despite an apparent desire to, but she still walked faster than average and slid between the gaps in the pedestrians to move along quicker. Her eyes were continuously roaming, searching for something and he'd just started to tail her when signs of less stealthy pursuit reached him.

"There! Get her!" A shot rang out and as members of the public started screaming and running in all directions Anderson ducked into a side street and reached for his sidearm. His hand came away empty. Cursing he glanced out and caught site of the girl crouched behind a bin in the middle of the street, his pistol in her hands. Five armed men and a woman strolling casually up the centre of the road towards her.

"Come on out baby doll. I promise we won't kill you." Any chance the words had of being reassuring was lost when another of the gunmen let slip "yeah, Kray's got a much better fate waiting for you." The way the thief paled suggested she had some idea of the sort of things that fate could entail and she took a pot shot in their direction before hurrying out to the other end of the street, a hail of weapons fire following in her wake, one of the shots hitting her in the leg. Pulling the bloody limb into the relative safety of a shop doorway she tried to stand but the wounded leg wouldn't hold the weight and she collapsed against the limited cover of the doorframe. With escape no longer an option the girl's features hardened and she resumed firing with intent, one of her assailants fell screaming with a shoulder wound. Anderson cursed the child yet again, if he still had his gun he could have taken out all of them quickly and cleanly, instead he had to watch and wait for an opportunity where an unarmed marine might stand a chance of turning the tide. It was then his ears picked up on a pattern to the sounds around him that had been common to the training ranges and battlefields of a decade ago. While one would expect a scared or enthusiastic amateur to keep firing and overheat the weapon the teenager was firing and pausing in an optimum pattern of efficiency for getting the most shots with the lowest cooldown times, except it was the wrong pattern, the N7 knew you could get another 2 shots off with his pistol, but the pattern was perfect for the gun that had stopped being standard issue 8 years ago. Whoever this kid was she had weapons experience. That thought was solidified in his mind a moment later when the woman who had managed to sneak much closer, went down to a perfect headshot.

The surviving gunmen were all fully focused on the girl and as the last one passed his position Anderson saw his chance and slipped out, putting the man down hard. Dodging between cover, the soldier zeroed in on his next target but just as he popped up behind him, arm wrapped around his neck in a choke hold, the child leant out of cover aiming at the same target. He saw her eyes widen in shock at the unexpected help and then her aim quickly slid over to the other side of the battleground, taking care of the gunman furthest from his position. Working together it took just over a minute and a half to finish clearing the street, all 6 hostiles dead or subdued without further injury to themselves. Then Anderson cautiously approached the teen, knowing it was the most dangerous part of his day so far. His pistol snapped onto him and while she didn't shoot, her aim never faltered as she warily tracked his movements.

"That's close enough." He stopped and raised his empty hands slightly, her eyes darting in all directions trying to find an escape route but never leaving him alone long enough for him to make a move.

"You're injured let me help." She shook her head, grip tightening on the gun as he attempted a half step closer.

"Back off." Dark rings surrounded her eyes and it was clear she hadn't been sleeping properly. Between the exhaustion and the leg wound she was struggling to stay upright but still she tried to back away, leaning against the wall for support. Any remaining hope of a way out faded as armed response police cars finally started to land at the scene. Cops spreading out with their weapons raised. Anderson found himself feeling immensely glad he was in uniform but his job wasn't over yet.

"Come on kid, put it down. You got a name?"

"Why? You wanna know what to put on the tombstone?"

"No... Come on kid it doesn't have to be this way. Put down the gun and let me help you."

"Too late. No-one can help me now." She finally looked him straight in the eye and the image of hopeless resignation in her gaze was mixed with something else that he couldn't identify. Whatever it was burned deep inside her and seared the memory into his brain. Even years later he couldn't decipher it, nor could he ever forget. The pistol raised back up and he fully expected it to be him or her, but instead she defied logic, bypassing the obvious targets in favour of aiming at the police, a battle she could never hope to win. Before she could fire she collapsed, tranquiliser dart exuding from her neck.


	3. Chapter 3

The normally serene hospital was in chaos, it had been years since they'd had to deal with a mass shooting, although there had only been a handful of civilian casualties many more had turned up at the hospital in shock and insisting they'd been shot. The surviving gunmen were being held in individual rooms further in under heavy police guard. The girl, while still under guard, was merely handcuffed and restrained to a bed in the corridor. Despite having already given his statement to the police Anderson found himself either unable, or at the very least unwilling, to just return to his shore leave as if nothing had happened and was there keeping a subtle eye on the child. He was the first to notice her awakening, rushing to her side as she struggled against her bonds.

"Easy now child." She stopped struggling and looked at him, head falling back against the pillow in defeat.

"Shit... And there was me hoping it was all a dream." To her surprise the soldier started laughing. "Shut it asshole! You're making me regret not killing you."

"Why didn't you?" She looked back at him once more and he could see her actually thinking about the question, her mouth opened and closed several times before she shrugged.

"Why don't you just piss off, I'm tired of your face." She rolled over best she could against the restraints, turning her back on him. Despite the show of bravado and anger, Anderson could tell the teen was floundering beneath the surface, uncertain of what was going to happen but utterly convinced it couldn't be anything good. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, feeling her flinch at the contact, a quick reassuring squeeze and he let go, walking back to the other side of the corridor where one of the police officers was engaging in a vid-call with the station on his omni-tool.

"I've got a hit!"

"What are we looking at?"

"There's nothing, kid's clean."

"Bullshit, you saw her arm."

"Tattoo's can't be used as evidence in a court of law, you know that. As far as the judge is concerned there's no record of prior criminal activity. It'll be treated as a first offense. Only thing linked to her DNA is a hospital record of birth. 11th April 2154 at St. Anne's hospital. Mother: Hannah Shepard di..." David stopped listening, his heart rate spiking slightly and brain working away nineteen to the dozen. _Hannah?_ He hadn't heard that name in well over a decade, nearly two, _surely not?_ He glanced back at the girl and did a quick bit of arithmetic, April '54 would be right.

"Did you say Shepard? Lieutenant Hannah Shepard?"

"Err... There's no mention of any rank Sir but yes, 'mother: Hannah Shepard died during childbirth. No other known relatives. Baby put into the care of St Adrian's orphanage. That's the sole record of her existence before today."

"There's nothing from the orphanage? This Saint Adrian's?" He didn't miss the hesitant glance between the officers. Officially they didn't have to tell him anything of course, he was fairly certain it was his dress uniform and the multitude of ribbons on the left side that had them being so accommodating to him.

"St Adrian's is outside the wire Sir. That sector was swallowed up by the wasteland in '56" _Two years?_ _She'd been in the wasteland since she was 2 years old?_ The fact she survived this long was nothing short of miraculous, although Anderson wasn't naive enough to think that survival was possible without engaging in, shall we say, 'a particular style of living'.

"What will happen to her?" The cop shrugged.

"Depends on the judge. 15 months at a maximum security juvenile facility then whatever's left of her sentence at an adult facility. Assuming she survives that long." At Anderson's raised eyebrow he tapped his right arm, signifying the teen's tattoos. "Those gunmen were the same gang. We have no way of knowing what happened unless one of them talks, which is... unlikely. But whatever it was was serious, she won't have any protection inside. Every gangbanger in the joint will be trying to kill her. Depending where she goes the staff might even decide it's in their own best interests to turn a blind eye and let it happen quick, less danger to them, quicker to regain control..." _Hannah's daughter deserved more than that,_ she should have been at the finest schools the Alliance could offer but instead she was here with eyes full of hardship and an arm full of ink.

"Is she eligible for recruitment deferral?" The option for allowing criminals to exchange their prison sentence for military duty had been excluded from most major countries on Earth since the 1970s, upon the realisation that criminals were rarely the type of people you wanted to let loose with guns, but it had seen selected revival during the First Contact War. While rarely enacted, it was legally still officially allowed, so long as strict criteria was met.

"Technically it's a first offense so sure, but I don't know why you people would want her. If tattoos were admissible as evidence she'd probably be doing life!" He knew the kid was far from innocent, but still... His conscious demanded he help her somehow, he owed it to his former Lieutenant to try. "Either way she'd still need to survive 15 months of juvie before she's old enough to enlist. That's assuming she's even willing."

"I'll have a talk with her and test the waters, if that's alright with you guys?" He waited until he got a nod before continuing. "Any chance I could have that info on a datapad?"

...

"So are you willing to talk to me again yet Ms Shepard?" He must have startled the teen but as she rolled to face him his sharp eyes caught what she'd been doing and his quick reactions had him holding her unrestrained left wrist.

"Can't blame a girl for trying right?"

"Me? No. The police? Pretty sure they'll add resisting arrest and attempted escape to your rap sheet. I just came over to see if you'd ever be interested in joining the military?" He said as he re-secured her bonds.

"Why the fuck do you care so much what happens to me anyway?"

"Your mother-"

"Never had a mother." Hannah's daughter snapped defiantly. Now that he knows he can see the resemblance in her eyes, ears and the shape of her jaw.

"Fine. The 'woman who died giving birth to you' saved my life once, I owe her, you're the only way I can pay her back."

"How do you know any of this?" She was wary, it was understandable, Anderson handed her the datapad.

"The police ran your DNA through every database they could think of. No criminal record other than the unofficial one on your arm but they found your birth records." She scrolled up and down the screen a couple of times before tossing it back at him.

"Why don't you just give me the highlights?" _Highlights? It's not that long,_ David thought, momentarily confused until it clicked in his head: _She can't read._

"Ok, you were born at St Anne's hospital on April 11th 2154 and your mother, Hannah Shepard, died from complications during the birth."

"So this Hannah chick saved your life and you think helping me will clear the debt? Sounds like a pretty selfish reason to me"

"Maybe it is, but do you have any better options? Perhaps you'd prefer to take a chance on the prison sentence? They've got a book going you know?" He nodded his head towards the cops that were supposed to be guarding her. "There's been bets on everything from 6 years to life. Even if you do get back out you'll be in the exact same position you were in this morning. Of course from what I hear life isn't always that long in prison for gang members."

"So, you think 20 years in the military's my better option? I hear life's not always that long in the marines either." He couldn't help a chuckle at that.

"It's not always no. But when your life's in danger at least you'll have a chance to fight back, and if you survive those twenty you'll be free to do what you want in life. Who knows you might find you like it and choose to stay longer, but you can leave the military at 38 with a full pension and whatever savings you've got from 20 years of wages. A full pardon from any crimes committed before the date of enlistment and the option to settle on a different planet. A whole new life. So what's it going to be?" She takes her time, clearly thinking about her options in detail before finally nodding her consent. "Good. There are a few things first though Jane that you'll-"

"You what? Jane!? You can't be serious."

"That's the name on your birth certificate. Jane Shepard." He held the pad out as proof even though he knew she couldn't read it.

"Nope, not happening. Do I **look** like a fucking Jane to you?" Anderson struggled to keep the smile off his face at the teenager's outburst, several people in the hospital looking over at them in concern.

"Well so far every time I've asked for a name you've refused to give me one. If you don't want to be called Jane then what do you want to be called Shepard?"

The former Tenth Street Red gave it serious consideration. The only thing she could ever remember being called was Spitfire. Well Ok, that wasn't entirely true, she'd been called bitch and whore and all kinds of things, but that was the only one that had been unique to her. It still wasn't exactly a name though, "Reilly's Little Spitfire" It was more like a title, it made her sound like a possession or a tool. She thought of all the people she'd known, characters she'd seen in comics, trying on names from all over the place but struggling to find one that sounded like a good fit. The soldier watched from her bedside in silence until she finally reached a decision.

"Hamelin... I'll be Hamelin" The N7 smiled.

"Ok then Hamelin Shepard, here's the plan..."


	4. Chapter 4

It had been decided that the newly named Hamelin Shepard's only chance of surviving until her 18th Birthday (ignoring the teenager's suggestion of letting her be armed and allowed to kill anyone who attacked her) was to keep her in solitary confinement. She got more than the standard hour outside her cell each day as a result of their attempt to give her a crash course education to the level needed for Alliance entry requirements. It turned out her mental arithmetic was surprisingly good as a result of all the drug deals and gun running but Anderson's instinct had been correct and she was completely illiterate, so far attempts to fix this kept hitting a brick wall. David sighed as he looked through the small window on the classroom door. He half expected to see Shepard pacing the room like a caged animal but the teenager was led back in a chair, hands behind her head, feet propped up on a nearby table. At first glance it was a relaxed, nonchalant position but he could see the tension running tight through her, every muscle primed ready to react. Her eyes snapped to him when he unlocked the door and walked in, but they quickly darted away, feigning disinterest. He saw the increase in tension though, the girl coiled tight ready to spring and prepared for anything.

"So, tell me Hamelin, how is assaulting your teacher supposed to help anything?"

"Assault? I barely touched him! It's his own fault, the condescending little prick! He keeps treating me like I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid Hamelin but there's some stuff you don't know that you're going to need to know if you want to enlist. How to read is one of those things. So what's it going to be? There's no point me wasting my time here any longer if you're just going to choose prison in the end anyway." Jaw clenched tight she issued a single nod.

"Good. Ok then, why don't we try again?" Anderson heard a frustrated sigh as he picked up the book of letters and internally he echoed it when he saw the first pages, 'A for apple, B for ball'. _She's sighing, how does she think I feel?_ _A highly decorated N7 special forces operative trying to teach a teenager the goddamn alphabet!_ A memory triggers in his mind from ICT, the linguistics teacher bemoaning how when you give a marine a translator dictionary for the first time they ALWAYS checked out the same words first. He can't believe he's about to do this: _I really hope this room's not being recorded for audio,_ he thought bitterly. _If this doesn't work it could go down as one of the stupidest things I've ever done._

" **A**..." He started and there was another groan, "... is for Asshole. **B**..." He points at the new letter as Shepard's sharp gaze flicks over to him. He can almost see the cogs turning in her brain as she assesses him, sizing him up. He's still not certain how he's going to progress her education but at least he's got her attention. "is for Bastard. **C** -"

"Oh I know the C-word." Shepard interrupts and it bugs him how he can't read anything from her eyes. "C is for Cunt." _**Not**_ _the word I was going to use but go with it, can't lose the initiative now._

"Yes, but do you know how to spell it?"

"Why the fuck would I need to spell it?" _**Because**_ _... Hang on a minute..._

"OK yeah, you'll probably never need to spell cunt. Bad example. You ever write that in a combat report and the brass would flip out." There was silence for a moment and then the teen leaned forward never breaking eye contact as she tested:

"OK... how **do** you spell cunt?"

...

 **Author's note**

Just a random scene that popped into my head. That's likely to be it for pre-enlistment chapters now. If there's anything in particular that you've liked or disliked so far let me know.


	5. Chapter 5

"Well... What about Shepard?" Anderson's throat dried, heart clenching at the thought, the ambassador continued speaking oblivious to his horror. "Earthborn, but no record of her family."

"Her mother died in childbirth," it still hurt sometimes, even after all these years, to think Hamelin was Hannah's daughter, that he hadn't managed to do more. "Father unknown. She was raised on the streets. Learned to look after herself." He'd done his best with the child but there was only so much he could change, her formative years had been spent in that hell hole on Earth and it had shaped her almost beyond redemption. It had made her a survivor and there was no denying she was a damn useful resource to the Alliance, never baulking at the more unsavory aspects of the job that might put off someone raised with a stronger moral code, but the idea of her as a representative of humanity... he shared a glance with Hackett who seemed to be having similar thoughts.

"She got most of her unit killed on Torfan." The Admiral supplied. That wasn't the whole truth of course, both military men knew that, but it had the greatest chance of putting people off her. In fact she was probably the only reason any of the marines on Torfan came out alive considering the faulty intel the mission had been planned on. Her actions in that campaign had caused outrage among civilians however and been a PR nightmare, they were lucky they'd been able to keep the identity of the 'Butcher of Torfan' so well hidden. By the way Udina was frantically scrolling through her file the media team responsible deserved a medal.

"Torfan? I didn't know she was on Torfan! I thought Shepard was the Hero of Elysium?"

"She is. Held off enemy forces on the ground until reinforcements arrived, but just because it's her most famous battle doesn't mean it's her only one. She gets the job done, no matter what the cost. Elysium was too powerful a symbol to muddy her reputation with Torfan so there was a cover up."

"We can't question her courage but is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?" The ambassador asked, clearly perturbed to discover humanity's greatest space age heroine was not so black and white. _You'd think a politician would be more understanding of shades of grey_ Anderson thought, but breathed a sigh of relief as Udina picked up the next datapad. "Let's see... Lee Riley?"

"Ah, Riley. A spacer, one of the best engineers to ever come through the Villa." Anderson enthused, Hackett didn't seem entirely sure who they were talking about, speed reading the relevant file. David wasn't surprised, it was his role as an N7 that had him invited to this meeting after all. At some point or other he'd helped train or worked beside almost all the current batch of active ICT graduates, but the very nature of their work was supposed to be covert, not all of them had gained the publicity of Shepard. "She's yet to distinguish herself on any one mission but has plenty of potential..."

...

They'd sent several high priority messages to Shepard's omni-tool over the course of the day but received no reply and Anderson was getting increasingly frustrated. It was bad enough they'd had to resort to Shepard as their official Spectre candidate in the first place, despite his and Hackett's misgivings there simply hadn't been a better candidate. Those with their morals intact simply didn't have the necessary level of experience and as for those with experience, well... at least Shepard had the public image of Elysium, even if the brass knew better; her heroics had simply been a case of right place right time. The captain had to struggle not to snap at the messenger who finally let slip the fact that Shepard was in the middle of a two week long shore leave. If he'd known that earlier he wouldn't have wasted time issuing summons, the commander's omni-tool was bound to be switched off if she was on leave, if she was feeling particularly bored or professional she might check it once a day, probably upon waking, but that wasn't much use to him. Luckily however the Alliance issued bluewire omni-tools didn't need to be on in order to be traced, he wasn't surprised to find her locator pointing to one of her many haunts in the lower wards, the aptly named 'Den of Debauchery'. He didn't know how she could stomach such places, he felt sullied just standing at the entranceway, unfortunately he'd have to go inside in order to talk with her.

Hands grasped at his uniform as he pushed his way through the establishment, finally catching sight of his target in a corner with her own prey pressed against the wall. He didn't know if the woman in question was a prostitute or fellow patron and quite frankly he didn't much care, he just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. At least Shepard seemed to have taken **part** of his last lecture to her concerning disgracing the uniform to heart, there wasn't a single Alliance, marine corps or N7 logo visible on the civilian clothes she was wearing. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, neither the left hand pinning the other woman's wrists to the wall, nor the right hand pumping away furiously below ceased in their activities, but the mouth that had been ravishing throat and breast paused long enough to issue a growled: "Fuck off" before returning to work.

"Is that anyway to talk to a superior officer?" Her head snapped round to look at him and he saw the feral beast shining in her eyes. Most people were broken and remade in the military mold during basic training, but even after graduating N7 Shepard's beast had never been tamed. The most they'd managed was to keep it caged when on duty, but all animals needed exercise and the longer it went without being let out the more pent up and ferocious it became. Fortunately he was recognised and the beast sunk back down to let the woman have control, it didn't disappear completely though, still flickering beneath the surface. It was as if instead of being wrangled back into its cage it had simply been shouted at to sit and stay.

"Anderson. What do you want? I'm on shore leave."

"Not any more. You've been reassigned." He saw the beast attempt to rise in annoyance but she swatted it back down with practiced ease. "You'll find multiple messages with the details on your omni-tool but short version, we're shipping out tomorrow at 08:00 and you'll be my XO." Surprise streaked clearly across her features at that, it had been years since they worked together and despite her deeply held respect for him their relationship still fluctuated primarily between professional and antagonistic. Rarely managing to stay friendly for more than a couple of months at a time.

"I'll be there." She promised.

"Preferably sober." He stated and she raised an eyebrow.

"Preferably? You're actually giving me a choice in the matter?"

"Just make the most of your last hours of liberty Shepard, and be sure you get everything you need out your system, I'll not have the brute free upon my ship." It was a mix of threat and understanding that only a select few people could have issued and even less survived but Shepard nodded an acknowledgement.

...

At 05:47 the next morning the Normandy received a request to board. Anderson had been in the mess with a cup of coffee but made it up to the CIC before the commander made it through decontamination. He sized her up as she walked through the airlock, pace measured, gaze clear, dress blues crisp and pressed, the look was marginally ruined by the couple of duffel bags slung over her shoulder but they were something of a necessity considering she'd just come aboard, everything else screamed complete professional and he felt an eyebrow rise of its own accord when she presented him with a parade perfect salute.

"Commander Shepard reporting for duty, Sir."

"OK, who are you and what've you done with Hamelin Shepard?" She fought hard to repress a smirk, corners of her lips managing to turn up before she wrestled them back under control. She'd caught the subtle tone of approval and pride in his voice but far more importantly was the lack of official decorum and she responded in kind.

"Oh is that who this uniform belonged to? I just saw some drunk passed out on the street and thought I'd take the chance to see the stars." It was the captain's turn to beat back a smile.

"Well I hope you're as good a shot as that drunk Commander... At ease. Come on I'll give you the tour." He caught her raised eyebrow as they entered the CIC proper and he didn't even need her to speak to know what was going through her mind. "It's a turian design. Apparently they prefer commanders looking over their subordinates, rather than in the middle of them."

"Uh-huh, is that so? You realise the reason I passed so quick through N-School was because I'd had enough of hearing you shouting all the time." There was a chuckle as he shook his head.

"And do **you** realise that this highly specialised and technical ship has an internal comm system that can connect any or all sectors together so I don't need to shout for my orders to be heard?"

"You say that now. All it takes is one disgruntled soldier down among the hardware with a toolbox and boom, no more comms."

"Well then I guess it'll be up to my XO to make sure the crew doesn't get too disgruntled if she doesn't want to hear me yelling again. Speaking of... Did you get a chance to read the personnel files I sent?" There was a slight grimace.

"I managed Heads of Departments and the ground team, I'm afraid that's as far as I got."

"It's OK. You can pick the rest up as we go. Ah here's one lady you will need to know though, Doctor Chakwas? Allow me to introduce our new XO, Commander Shepard. Take a good look at what she's supposed to look like, I'm sure you'll be having to patch her back up in no time." There was a snort from the soldier beside him.

"Like you can talk old man! Nice to hear he has such high confidence in my abilities." She shook the grey haired woman's hand. "No offense intended Major but I'm hoping to spend as little time around you as possible."

"None taken, you N7s are all the same, and 'Doctor' is fine Commander."

"Sorry Major, I have a pathological dislike of doctors, let's just call it a quirk and I'll apologise in advance for being the worst patient you'll ever have."

"You're aware I've worked with the captain for a number of years now?" The comeback caught Shepard slightly off guard, she knew Anderson didn't let just anybody talk to (or about) him in that way, it was a right people had to earn. Over the years she'd learnt that people who acquired Anderson's respect where usually worthy of hers, not that she'd grant it automatically on his recommendation, it still had to be earned. While she could count the people she respected on her fingers it was still easier to earn than her trust. She may have no love for the woman's profession but she knew it was wiser not to antagonise the people who may one day have her life in their hands so she responded in kind

"What can I say, I believe in quality over quantity." With another round of nods and smiles the N7s went on their way continuing with the tour.


	6. Chapter 6

The omni-blade flipped out silently, if any of the crew thought their XO's choice of eating utensil was odd they didn't say anything. Neither did they comment on the way she cut ALL her food with the lethal instrument before allowing even a single morsel past her lips, reverting to a normal fork to transport the results from plate to mouth. Of course they were likely unaware of the sensor programs constantly running in the background of her omni-tool, the ones that analysed everything the blade came into contact with and would silently warn her by gentle vibrations if it found poison or other contaminants. If they HAD known they'd probably think her paranoid, but after surviving one attempted poisoning Post-Torfan she had no interest in experiencing the horrific gut wrenching symptoms again. Her prudence had paid off, the software alerting her to three warnings of lethal contaminants over the past five years, and one attempt to get her covertly stoned via baked goods. She didn't really expect anything to happen on an Alliance ship, but the risk of forgetting to activate it or not having time if suddenly thrust into a diplomatic 'eat this honoured and symbolic food' situation meant it was easier and safer to keep the program running at all times rather than just checking the suspicious meals. As for continuing to use the omni-blade, truth was by now it was mostly just habit.

"Commander, may I?" She looked up to see the biotic from the ship's ground team standing inquiringly at her table with a tray of his own. A glance around the mess saw no other spaces among the officer's tables although plenty among the other ranks. _Great, he must be one of_ _ **those**_ _; too good to slum it with the enlisted personnel, either that or so by the book he thinks even talking to them outside work would count as fraternization._ She inclined her head in permission before concentrating back on her food, hoping he'd take the hint and leave her in peace. He didn't say anything but she could feel the glances he occasionally sent her way and she put her fork down with a sigh.

"Alright Lieutenant, let's just get the hero awe bullshit over and done with." He spluttered a protest but she just rolled her hand in a 'go on' gesture.

"I'm sorry, I never thought I'd be... umm, well... I've just never worked with an N7 before."

"Captain's an N7" She stated dismissively, but she had a feeling it was her specifically and not just her designation that was leaving him tongue tied here.

"Yeah Anderson's a living legend alright, but you've got a Star of Terra! Even the Captain's not got one of them."

"Bout the only medal he hasn't got. Surely you've heard that gem about him having enough medals to melt them down and make a life size statue of himself? He's even got a damn Nova Cluster. Only First Contact vet I've ever heard of to be honoured by the turian hierarchy."

"What did he do to earn that?"

"Ah now **that** is classified. You wanna know that one you're gonna have to get the balls to ask him yourself. Or you know... hack the mission reports. All the easy access files are heavily redacted though." She watched his eyebrows shoot up at the implication. There was only one way to know how redacted a file was and that was to see it. Getting hold of the unedited version had been an interesting test of her computer skills back at the villa.

"Uh, speaking of classified... I assume you can't tell me anything else about our current assignment?"

"We're hurrying up and waiting, if the Captain thought you needed to know more than that he'd have told you himself. You're not going to get anything out of me by going behind his back." He started apologising profusely, Shepard failing to mention how she wasn't privy to the details either. That irritated her no end. Anderson of all people knew how much she hated going into missions blind. Unfortunately the new ship meant she no longer had a handy backdoor onto his computer and he seemed to have updated his encryptions since the last time she served with him. It would take time to break, time that she had to spend on her XO duties, but if he didn't tell her soon she was sure she'd be able to find out on her own.

...

Eden Prime had been a disaster before she even set foot on the ground. First it had been revealed that her new turian shadow was NOT in fact there to keep an eye on the council's financial investment aka the ship, but rather to analyze her for potential recruitment into the intergalactic association of badasses, sorry... Spectre's. While there were few people who would question her status as a badass there were certain aspects of the job she wasn't exactly thrilled about. Such as shortened life expectancy and having to answer directly to politicians. She had to be relatively discreet with bird brain watching, but she made sure her displeasure at being put forward without consultation was clear. Unfortunately Anderson made it equally clear that she had no real choice in the matter. That was the problem with the recruitment deferral system, if she didn't do the full 20 years service she went straight back to prison. It didn't matter if she'd given up during boot or lasted a solid 19 and a half years, the time served wouldn't even get taken off her sentence. It was a fact of life that Shepard was more than aware of, but Anderson wasn't usually crass enough to bring it up. The briefing was interrupted by the reveal that details on the covert pickup had apparently been leaked and people with guns were now attempting to take it for themselves. Shepard had to admit she wasn't entirely surprised, by this point she had long ago come to the conclusion that 'simple extraction' was the soldier's version of the tooth fairy... Non existent.

Things didn't improve when they made it planetside. Corporal greenhorn went and got himself killed, idiot. Fortunately they stumbled upon a potential replacement not long later. Less fortunately she seemed to be running the wrong way. Personally Hamelin would consider that a demonstration of a relatively strong survival instinct but she was supposed to be Commander Shepard and Commander Shepard had a reputation to maintain. A brief bit of rescuing and some slight interrogating later, and she had a new tour guide. Along with the information that the geth had apparently got bored of sitting behind the veil and if that wasn't bad enough they had decided to turn the colonists into techno-zombies.

All in all it was turning out to be the day from hell, and that was BEFORE Nihlus, super spectre and alleged badass extraordinaire, went and forgot the first rule of survival: Trust no one. And got his head blown off. Because the mission wasn't screwed up enough already. By the time she finished disarming multiple nuclear bombs Shepard was almost considering taking the 28 years solitary confinement after all. At least the massive squid ship thing fucked off.

With the beacon finally secured and the Normandy en route for extraction. Shepard decided to have a nose around the docks. She thought she'd seen a wall safe while scoping the place out during the battle and enjoyed the occasional flex of old skills. She knew Anderson disapproved, of course he did, but she doubted he'd let her have a drink or a fuck when she got back onboard either and after a day like today she needed something to help take the edge off, even if just for a minute.

She was already on her way back with the goods, choosing to ignore the disapproving look on the chief's face when the beacon flared green. It grabbed the Lieutenant and lifted him up into the air where he hovered, more sickly green light flowing all around him. Trusting her instincts Shepard threw herself into cover shouting at Williams to do the same. The shockwave from the explosion rocked the whole docks, leaving her ears ringing as she stumbled over to check on the biotic's prone body. He was still alive but the mission objective was a smoking ruin. As the Normandy swooped in to pick them up there was only one thing Shepard was certain of: She was NOT looking forward to the debrief.

...

 **Author's note:**

Sorry for the long delay on this one. We also appear to have suddenly gone slightly AU, I just couldn't think of any reason why Hamelin would risk her life for Kaiden, yeah I know he's under her command but so what? The only life she truly cares about is her own. I tried to think of some justification for her helping him but then I started thinking about the possibilities of someone else having the Reaper visions and Shepard just tasked with tracking down Saren. I am currently unsure where I'll take this, current possibilities include Liara sharing Kaiden's visions with Shepard, Shep being exposed to the second beacon on Virmire or Shepard never experiencing the visions at all and not believing in the Reapers. If you have a preference or any other ideas let me know. Updates will be irregular at best as this isn't my main story but I'm more likely to try and work on it if I know people are interested in it. Failing that if you have no interest in AU at all then thanks for reading this far and sorry for ruining the story for you.


	7. Chapter 7

He could stand to attention for a solid eight hours without moving a muscle. He could hold a salute for three. He could probably last longer in both those activities but he'd never needed to and it was beside the point. He could take dressing downs from admirals and snide comments from politicians. He stayed cool under fire. Calm, focused, in control. Those were his qualities. The ultimate professional. He was never flustered. Never lost it. _**Except**_ when dealing with Shepard. He wasn't sure what it was about her that could make him want to snap. Probably everything.

"Do you even care if Lieutenant Alenko survives?"

"Oh he better survive, I've got words for him." She growled and Anderson stared speechlessly at her as she prowled the comm room where they were conducting the mission debrief. He'd sent the sole survivor of the 212 down to the med bay with Kaiden and would read her report of the incident later. Shepard would have to submit an official report as well of course. He knew it would be professional and well written and not include the word cunt, just like he'd taught her, but it would probably also be missing all kinds of other little details. She wasn't stupid enough to put anything potentially incriminating down in print. For his own sanity he decided to switch the topic of conversation.

"And this dockworker, you're certain he said it was Saren who killed Nihlus?" She paused in front of him, seamlessly morphing into standing at ease. Well, all her body parts were at the right angle for the military position of 'at ease' anyway. In the 10 years he'd known her he didn't think he'd ever seen Hamelin actually look as if she was genuinely at ease with the world, not after he'd learnt her almost microscopic tells.

"That's what he claims Nihlus called the turian who killed him. I can't vouch for his hearing but he definitely wasn't jerking me around." The carefree shrug and small wry smile was as good as an admittance of guilt, although would never be admissible in court. Anderson knew better than to inquire how she could be so sure the civilian wasn't lying but did find himself asking:

"Do I need to be worried about what the others are going to submit in their reports?"

"You can worry if you want Sir, but I'm not worried." He breathed a sigh of relief, _probably just verbal threats this time then. Not another 'my finger slipped' incident._ He still couldn't fathom how that defense had actually worked in her last tribunal, the idea that a top N7 marksman with training in weapons and operations safety could 'accidentally' kneecap a suspect. It probably had something to do with the fact that not a single one of the twenty odd witnesses present had seen or heard anything that suggested it was deliberate. For some reason there never seemed to be anyone willing to officially go on record or make a public statement about the Hero of Elysium's less honorable actions. Not since Torfan at any rate, and there were very few people outside the handful of survivors and top level brass who knew that the infamous 'marine A' had in fact been Shepard.

"I won't lie Shepard. Things look bad. Nihlus dead, the beacon destroyed and the geth invading. The Council's going to want answers."

"Fuck them! Only person responsible for Nihlus' death is Nihlus. Stupid fucker forgot the first rule of survival."

"Come on! Saren was his mentor, of course he didn't expect to be betrayed. That would be like me pulling a weapon out on you right now!" Her posture didn't change at all as she raised a single incredulous eyebrow.

"Exactly!" There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other, trying to put themselves in the other's head and work out the communication error they seemed to be experiencing. Shepard realised the cause of the discrepancy first, sighing as she spelt it out for him. "Sir, I have **six** separate response plans to you pulling a weapon on me in this room right now, varying slightly depending on whether you pull a gun or a knife, and I have four different escape routes off the ship. You will be glad to know that only one of those involves spacing the rest of the crew." It was Anderson's turn to look incredulous and somewhat horrified. He of all people should know how 'different' Shepard's outlook was to the rest of the galaxy, how ruthless, but even so the unwelcome reminders still shocked him sometimes. It wasn't that she was incapable of acts of kindness as such, simply that the possibility of them existing rarely entered her mind, her own survival and wellbeing was the prime directive of her twisted brain no matter the cost. Other people's wellbeing could occasionally be catered for, but always as a secondary objective. He was fortunately excused from having to think of a response to her revelation by the ship's tannoy sparking to life, the doctor's voice filling the room.

"I'm sorry Captain, I know you're busy, but Lieutenant Alenko is waking up."

...

"How's he holding up doctor?" Anderson asked quietly with professional but genuine concern, noting the dimmed lighting as he entered the med bay, Shepard following at his eight o'clock. The biotic had been leaning back against the far bed but attempted to straighten to attention at the officer's voice even as an involuntary wince flickered across his face, Anderson quickly waving him back at ease. Chakwas hurried to greet the N7s, keeping her voice low as she answered:

"Woke with a migraine as you'd expect, gave him his usual dose and it's starting to die back down to manageable levels. Other than that, physically he's fine. Although I did notice some abnormal beta waves."

"Any chance we can have that last bit again in english Major?" Shepard enquired, slipping effortlessly into the professional Alliance officer act that she mostly managed to maintain around people who didn't know the truth about her.

"Unusual brain activity. I also noticed an increase in rapid eye movement, usually associated with intense dreaming. Might be a side effect of the beacon or it might not. Unfortunately I just don't know."

"I saw... I don't know what I saw." Kaiden interrupted hesitantly, three pairs of eyes instantly snapping to his huddled form on the bed, arms curled protectively around his head.

"Is he well enough for a debrief?" Chakwas merely shrugged in response to the captain's query.

"As long as you keep the noise down I don't see why not, but I reserve the right to change my medical opinion at any time." Anderson nodded, shooting a silent warning to Shepard as they softly padded towards the bed. _Now is NOT the time for your 'words'._

"Sounds like that beacon hit you pretty hard Lieutenant, you sure you're okay?"

"I'll live, thank you Sir. What happened to the beacon?"

"It exploded. Suspected system overload. You probably triggered some kind of proximity sensor." The way Shepard's voice was void of even the faintest flicker of emotion of any kind told Anderson her quietness had nothing to do with the LT's migraine. The only thing stopping her from ripping the marine a new one was deference to his order. Right now he didn't care about her motivations as long as she did it. Either way he best take back control of the conversation before she changed her mind.

"You were there just before the beacon self-destructed Alenko. Did you see anything? Any clue that might tell us what Saren was after?"

"Just before I lost consciousness, I had some kind of vision."

"A vision? A vision of what?"

"The darkness. Death and destruction. Fear. No hope. No escape-"

"Ah great, the fucking L2 finally cracked!" Alenko winced, whether it was due to the commander's words or her volume was anybody's guess. Anderson shot her another warning look but she glared right back ' _what?'_ At least she shut up, even if her left hand started hovering ominously close to her thigh pocket.

"Nothing's really clear," the biotic amended hastily "but I think I saw synthetics. Slaughtering people. Butchering them."

"Geth?"

"Maybe, I don't know. "

"We need to report this to the Council."

"And tell them what Sir? That I had a bad dream? The commander's right, they'll just think I'm crazy."

"We don't know what information was stored in that beacon. Lost prothean technology? Blueprints for some ancient weapon of mass destruction? Whatever it was, Saren took it. But I know Saren. I know his reputation, his politics. He believes humans are a blight on the galaxy. This was an act of war." A quiet cough interrupted his epic speech, it was far too subtle to be Hamelin so he glanced towards the doctor.

"Sorry Captain, but I think that's enough for just now." She nodded towards her patient and Anderson realised Kaiden had withdrawn to his own little world.

"OK. Let me know if he says anything that could be useful." He turned to leave, Shepard on his heels, her hand still hovering by whatever concealed weapon she must surely have in that pocket until the door shut behind them. "I've got to get back to the bridge, can you make sure Chief Williams is squared away."

"Aye aye Sir."

"And Shepard? Go easy on her. She's just lost her entire unit. Most people actually give a damn about their fellow marines."

"Think I read something about that once Sir." She actually smiled, Anderson really didn't want to try and analyse what that one meant. He briefly wondered if migraines were contagious. "Don't worry Sir. It's just assigning a bunk, kit and duties. I'll be gentle."


	8. Chapter 8

_Blah blah blah_. Hamelin wouldn't lie, she'd stopped listening to Udina's incensed ravings awhile back. Anderson and the other two marines in the room had almost certainly made the same automatic, almost subconscious, checks for escape routes and defensive positions upon entering the room but she wondered if any of the others were playing fantasy assassination like she was. After all the room had a very large balcony, you could see for miles, there must be hundreds of potential sniper spots. A change in the background noise levels provided ample warning and she zoned back into the conversation in time to hear:

" _ **Captain**_ _ **Anderson**_. I see you brought half your crew." Shepard bristled at the ambassador's tone, she might have multiple plans to defend herself against, and if necessary kill, her mentor but that didn't give some jumped up politician the right to disrespect him. Anderson was worth a hundred Udinas. Hell she'd gladly kill a hundred Udinas. She knew better than to mention it out loud though so she limited her conversation to the topic at hand. "That's enough Shepard, you've done more than enough to jeopardize your candidacy for the Spectres." In her peripheral vision she saw Anderson shut his eyes, coming from him when stood to attention she knew that was pretty much the equivalent of a full blown facepalm. She wouldn't be surprised if he was mentally conducting prayers to the deities of every known species in the galaxy. The gods wouldn't help him if he stayed silent though.

"Remind me why I should care? I **don't** seem to recall putting myself forward for the position."

"Shepard. We had this conversation remember." Came the captain's soft, collected response. _Damn it, you couldn't have just stayed silent could you?_ That was the second time in as many days that he had pulled her leash like that. It was infuriating! At least he'd kept it suitably vague in front of the subordinates, but still. A sudden panic, _no not panic, she never panicked... A wariness, yes that was much more acceptable_. A sudden wariness filled her as she wondered how much of her personal history the ambassador knew. It was enough of a concern for her to keep silent until he flounced out the room with Anderson, stupidly leaving the three marines alone in the office. _Well at least that proves he doesn't know_ _ **everything**_ _about me_.

"And THAT is why I hate politicians."

"You and me both Chief, you and me both." Hamelin tiredly replied, before grinning malevolently as an, admittedly childish but nonetheless brilliant, idea popped into her head. A few quick taps on her omni-tool took care of the cameras (not that it wouldn't be obvious who was responsible, but the justice system's reliance on evidence and the whole 'innocent until proven guilty' principle were truly marvelous keystones of civilization, especially if you wore gloves) and she slid into the chair in front of Udina's private terminal. _Seriously you call that a security system? A one legged mouse could hack this! Bloody hell it's even logged in to the email still_.

[Captain Hendrickson reported some unusual energy readings during a patrol of the Argos Rho cluster. She had particular concerns about-] _BORING! This inbox totally needs some spicing up. Let's see... A subscription for hanar porn or elcor porn? Meh, why not both_. Her attempts to come up with a suitably insulting new password were interrupted by a reminder that her squadmates were still new to her command.

"Uhh Commander? Are you sure you should- I mean, err... What ah, are you doing?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." _That one, very nice. Who knew there were so many pictures of vorcha orgies on the extranet? Aaand set as desktop..._ "Right I'm bored now. Let's go." Williams and Alenko shared a quick glance of concern before hurrying after her, the biotic massaging his temples.

...

"He can't say that! He's got no right!" Udina cut in in a rage as Saren insulted humanity in front of the Council and it took all her willpower to remain motionless standing at attention. _How the hell did this imbecile become ambassador?_ _ **I've**_ _got more tact and self control than him._ A quick flick out the corner of her eye revealed Anderson had shut his eyes again, it was brief but she'd noticed and internally she grinned. _Glad I'm not the only one._

The mental grin turned into a scowl after the meeting was over as Anderson and Udina outlined a plan involving her running her ass off around the Citadel in the vague hope of finding something incriminating on Saren. Worse they wanted her to team up with a cop to do so. After being responsible for that little brainwave she had to wonder why she'd bothered saving Williams back on Eden Prime. _Oh yeah, I needed something else for people to shoot at that wasn't me._ The only good news was that their lead to finding said cop liked to frequent Chora's Den, she was about ready for a drink, well... That and Anderson's face when he heard Harkin's name. The captain liked bent coppers about as much as she liked straight ones. _Poor little boy scout._ Not for the first time she wondered how he'd managed to remain sane when forced to work with her, 'differences of opinion' didn't come close to describing their respective work ethics. Unfortunately he didn't have any better plans so she took the CRT system down to the lower wards, desperately trying to think of a way to send her fellow marines on a wild goose chase and allow herself a couple of hours freedom to relax and be herself before returning later on with sadly nothing to report.

Her planning was interrupted by gunfire, brain switching instantly into combat mode as a pair of turians tried, and promptly failed, to kill her. _Fuckers! Don't you know to never come between a woman and her booze? That's it, this shit is personal now._

 _..._

She sighed in disappointment as she dropped the torn mandible into a puddle of blue blood. Poor Kernus hadn't known anything other than his target, that collateral damage was of no concern, payment was on delivery and he had no idea who his employer was. Shepard knew there was nothing wrong with her interrogation technique, he genuinely didn't know, standing up she put a single bullet through the remains of the mangled turian's head, turning to face her subordinates. Alenko was pasty faced and wobbly on his feet although whether as a result of the impromptu lesson on turian biology or the discovery he had been the primary target of the assassins she had no idea. Come to think about it the chief looked a little paler than normal as well. _Friggin Alliance types, so damn squeamish._ Banishing the thought from her mind she finally entered Chora's Den, heading straight to the bar, her unfortunate lackeys still on her heels.

"A million lightyears from where humanity began and we walk into a bar filled with men drooling over half naked women shaking their asses on a stage." Hamelin couldn't help smiling at the chief's observation. _If you think this is bad you best stay far away from me if we get any shore leave. This is some presidium leveled civilization compared to_ _ **my**_ _usual haunts._

"You got a preferred gender or species to see half naked? I'm sure I can find a better bar to suit your tastes Williams." She offered and wasn't disappointed by the snort of disgust or the almost chuckle from Alenko. She downed her first drink before the bartender even finished pouring the rest of the round for the others, but before she could get a top up Kaiden interrupted, pointing out a man on the far side of the room as Harkin and she made her way over with a sigh.

"Hey there sweetheart, looking for some fun? Because I got to say that- Hngh!" The slimy greaseball's words cut off suddenly as Shepard leaned forward, heel on the chair, toes of her heavily armoured boot coming to rest just above his crotch, omni-blade extended threateningly on her wrist despite her forearms resting casually on her knee. Alenko shifted uncomfortably in solidarity to the other man's plight but offered no protest, while Williams seemed almost happy at the display.

"Not interested. I just want to know where Garrus Vakarian is."

"Okay, okay, just relax. Garrus you say? You must be one of Anderson's crew, poor bastard's still on his vendetta to bring Saren down huh? I know where Garrus is but first you got to tell me something, did the captain let you in on his big secre- Hngh... Fuck! Bitch!" He cursed vehemently as she pressed down with her foot.

"Stop wasting my time. Where... Is... Garrus?"

"Alright! He was visiting Dr Michel, she's got a med clinic on the other side of the wards!"

"See, that wasn't so hard." She turned to leave, fully prepared for Harkin to launch himself at her back in a sloppy, revenge fueled assault. When he stayed down instead and they reached the exit without incident she couldn't decide whether or not she was disappointed.

"What was he going on about ma'am? The captain's secret? A vendetta against Saren? Do you think we should ask-"

"Pipe down Chief, that lowly piece of pond life don't know shit. That mission's classified well above his pay grade, and yours. Hell, it's even supposed to be above mine."

"Supposed ma'am? You know something don't you?" Alenko inquired, picking up on her words. _Damn him, it's always the quiet ones you got to watch out for._

"All you need to know is the captain got shafted. By Saren. By the politicians. Good for nothing bastards. I ain't planning on letting that happen to me." She lead them through the thick crowds of the market, the tight throng suddenly and suspiciously thinning out as they neared the clinic. She knew there was no point asking anyone what was going on, being deaf and blind with occasional bouts of amnesia was practically a prerequisite for survival in these situations and she had neither the time nor money to cure them of their ailments. Not when a simple thermal scan on her visor could produce faster results. The heat signatures behind the wall painted a clear picture of a hostage/interrogation situation and she quickly distributed orders to her crew, pulling out her pistol and hoping the creeping figure on the left was their turian quarry and that he wouldn't prove to be a liability. Then she hit open the door, taking the briefest of moments to confirm reality matched her preconceptions (5 hostiles, 1 civilian, 1 turian in C-sec armour) before targeting the leader. The turian made use of the momentary distraction to pop up in a flanking position and they ended up firing at the same time, both bullets hitting the mark. Williams had also neutralized her target, C-sec rushing to pull the frozen Michel into cover and out of danger. Hamelin had just lined up her second headshot when she was hit from behind by a biotic throw. It barely clipped her but it was enough to mess up her aim and she ducked back down, searching for the biotic. Her eyes landed on Alenko, hunkered down with a thin sheen of sweat across his face, looking more like a battle virgin than the experienced operative both Anderson and his service record had assured her he was. Friendly fire was not something she took lightly but there were far too many witnesses for her to return the favour. Besides both the chief and the turian had taken down another hostile, leaving just one for her to claim.

Shepard kept one eye on the lieutenant at all times as the doctor explained the situation regarding a quarian, the Shadow Broker and Fist. He looked like he was trying to hide quite a bit of pain, possibly another migraine, she didn't really care about his suffering but it made him a liability and when Garrus volunteered his services she jumped at the chance. _He may be a cop but as long as I don't do anything too controversial I doubt he'll turn on us. Too much paperwork. Besides the way he's looking at me I reckon he's heard about Elysium and Eden Prime but not any of the rest._

"Vakarian, Williams you're with me. Alenko, stay here and secure the clinic. Make sure the doc's alright, might want to get your head checked out while you're at it." The LT looked like he was going to protest but she didn't give him a chance, sweeping out the clinic with her chosen squad, finally holstering her pistol once the door was shut between her and the L2.

"You know, there's a krogan bounty hunter after Fist as well." The turian informed her and her brain went into overdrive. Bounty hunter's didn't like to lose their prize and if he discovered her team was aiming for the same target he'd do one of two things: push harder to neutralize Fist before they got there, or eliminate the competition. Neither option was preferable. They'd be much better off talking to him and explaining the situation first. Even if it did mean walking into the heart of cop territory to fetch him.

...

"Shepard, hmm I've heard of you." Something told her the krogan knew far more about her than either of the people currently stood behind her, possibly more than anybody else on the Normandy except Anderson. Then again he did work for the Shadow Broker, it shouldn't be surprising. "Alright, I'll work with you. But fair warning, I'm going to kill Fist." Her compatriots seemed a little put out by his statement but she simply shrugged.

"Fine by me, so long as you wait until **after** I've got the information I need." He nodded an agreement and fell in behind them as she led the way back to Chora's Den.

...

"Please I'm telling you, I don't know where the quarian is." This was the point most people would start threatening to do nasty things to him but why waste time? Hamelin casually pointed her gun and pulled the trigger, expression never changing as Fist screamed clutching his knee. Behind her Williams and Vakarian shifted uneasily, but Wrex gave a toothy grin of approval. "The quarian isn't here, said she'd only deal with the shadow broker. I told her I'd set a meeting up."

"Face to face? Impossible. Even I was hired through an agent." The krogan supplied.

"Nobody meets the shadow broker but she didn't know that, she- urggh!" He was talking sure, but he was also wasting time so Shepard simply put her boot on the wound and pressed down, Fist's fingers also being trapped underneath.

"Enough babbling, just tell me the location."

"The alleys! Behind the market place, here in the lower wards!" She removed her foot and he was clearly torn between putting his damaged fingers in his mouth to try and suck away the pain, or leave them round the knee in the pitiful attempt to stem the bleeding.

"Thank you." She turned away and for a brief millisecond he allowed himself to hope, only for her to add: "He's all your's Wrex." The last thing he saw was the scarred red beast pointing a shotgun at him, he heard the blast but not the woman's next words: "Well, what are you two looking at? Let's go, we've got a quarian to save."

...

"Fist set me up!" Hamelin took a moment simply to observe the quarian as she raved. Keeping mostly to themselves on the flotilla left them as one of the few species she'd never fought or drunk with, and the suits made them difficult to read. The way she held her shotgun however made it clear that while she wasn't looking for a fight, she was certainly still on high alert and not going to be taken by surprise again. The fact that she wasn't cowering at the sight of Wrex, plus had already been shot and undeterred by a polonium round, suggested she wouldn't intimidate easily and while Shepard was certain that given enough time and independence she could make anybody talk... she had a feeling Williams and Vakarian would draw the line this time. They had stayed silent so far as she dealt with assassins and crime bosses but doubted torturing innocent young girls would be tolerated. Especially when they had 'victim' stamped all across their face plate. No, it was time to pull out the hero charm. She came to the decision just before the quarian collected herself enough to ask "Who are you?"

"Commander Shepard, Alliance military." Hamelin gave a polite and respectful nod, _no need to overdo it with a salute; she's not an official and you've just saved her ass, you don't need to woo it too._ "I'm trying to take down Saren and I believe you might have some data that could help." The quarian was still on edge and Shepard couldn't blame her, she would be after all that had just happened too. She couldn't see her eyes but there was a microscopic movement of the head that suggested she was looking uncertainly at the array of muscle and guns behind her and Shepard decided more introductions were required, pointing to each of them in turn. "Chief Williams, Alliance marines. Officer Vakarian, C-Sec and Urdnot Wrex... let's just call him 3rd party insurance." _Best not mention the Shadow Broker at this point._

"Ok, but not here."

"Fair enough, we can go to the human ambassador's office, it should be safe there. Unless you can think of somewhere else you'd rather go?" She was careful to give the girl the illusion of a way out, a semblance of choice so she would feel less pressured and it worked. Nevertheless she wanted to be off the streets as soon as possible. "How about you and me take a cab and the others another, that OK?"

"Uh, ma'am? I think I should come with you." She almost admired the courage it took for Williams to stand up and object to her orders, but she despised the insolence. While she had only intended for the quarian not to feel crowded and threatened, it was clear the chief was remembering the field interrogations carried out in the last few hours, and worried what Shepard might do to the quarian if left alone. It was unnecessary in this instance but impressive, turns out even the most bigoted individual can have empathy for other species when faced with enough brutality towards an innocent.

...

"You're not making my job easy Shepard. I was warned to expect firefights in the Wards but this? Torture and mutilation? It's unacceptable and- Who's this?" He trailed off as he turned around and caught sight of the mini menagerie standing behind her, eyes focused for some reason not on the massive krogan or the turian cop but the mini quarian.

"Tali'Zorah. She has the evidence you asked me to collect. Evidence that would have disappeared along with her if I'd wasted time asking nicely. Maybe my file didn't make it clear enough for you Ambassador; **nobody** likes my methods, but they do like my results. I get the job done and that is why the Alliance keeps me around for their most problematic missions." She glared at Alenko who had already been sat in the corner of the office when she walked in, while Tali queued up her omni-tool. He'd stopped sweating now at least but he had winced several times at the volume during Udina's rant, he paled significantly during the second playthrough of the evidence.

"Reapers! That's what I saw in the vision. The protheans being wiped out by the Reapers!" Shepard shifted her eyes over to Anderson, sending with them a silent message she knew he'd pick up on: _Shut up the crazy or I will._

"I don't think the Council will be willing to believe us on that front just yet Lieutenant, but we certainly have enough to prove Saren's a traitor. Shepard, I want you and Miss Zorah at the tower for the hearing, everyone else is optional. Dismissed."

...

"Commander Shepard. Step forward please." _Aw fuck!_ She'd just wanted to destroy Saren's cosy little world, pay him back for trying to kill her, **not** take his damn place! She'd been hoping for another mentor, more mission's where she could prove she really wasn't what they were after. Surely Udina should have realised she wasn't worth the headache and pulled the plug. As they left the dais at the end of the inauguration ceremony she caught sight of a proud smile on Anderson's face and maneuvered to his side so they could talk without being overheard.

"Seriously? You too? Surely you of all people should realise how much of a bad idea this is."

"What? You've come far since I first met you. I'm sure you'll do us all proud." She gave a small scoff.

"This is why you're supposed to stand on my scarred side Sir, so you don't mistake me for my sainted mother." He shook his head but refused to rise to her bait or let his smile fade. It was true, as she'd grown older the unscarred half of her face had become a spitting image of Lieutenant Hannah Shepard, but he'd never mistaken daughter for mother.

"She'd be proud of you Hamelin, I'm sure of it." Another scoff and he had to remind himself that she truly didn't care about her heritage. She'd seen pictures by now, after Elysium the press had been delighted to make the connection between two generations of the Alliance's golden girls ( _Hamelin a golden girl, that alone was proof enough of the ineptitude of the press and the old saying 'don't believe everything you read'_ ), but to the best of his knowledge she'd never even looked at the senior Shepard's service record. That despite digging into his (and every other C.O she'd served under since the Villa)'s classified files. "Besides, don't worry I'm sure you'll find some way to twist this to your advantage, you always do."

"And if for no other reason then that right there is **exactly** why you should be worried Sir."

...

 **Author's note:** Wow where did all these followers come from? Thanks for the reviews and the patience. Still not going to be a regular update I'm afraid, renegade ideas don't pop into my head very often, but it does help to know people are appreciating it.

CRT = Citadel Rapid Transit, ME1's ingame name for fast travel points.


	9. Chapter 9

They had given her the Normandy. Hamelin wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to do with it. Sure it was a great ship and if she'd been career military by choice no doubt she'd have been delighted, but she'd spent less than a week as XO and never held a shipside command before, she was a typical ground pounder through and through, she didn't know how to run a ship. There was being thrown in the deep end to learn how to swim and then there was being thrown in a deep, fast flowing, piranha infested river heading towards a waterfall to learn how to swim. She would say she hoped it came with a manual but at the same time she really wasn't in the mood to read.

Anderson had suggested Pressly for XO and she was happy to agree, truth be told he probably should have been the captain's XO from the start. She hadn't worked with him before but he was an experienced officer and Anderson assured her he would respect the chain of command, follow any _legal_ order (she did so love the way he stressed that word) but would at least warn her of the dangers if she attempted anything unnecessarily life threatening. As a rule she didn't like people questioning her orders but at the same time she didn't want to die due to ignorance. People blindly following her orders to go to warp factor 16 when hull integrity failed at 14 was not a situation she wanted to be in, hell she wasn't even sure if warp factor was anything to do with ships, wasn't warp a biotic thing? Fuck why'd she have to remind herself of biotics? That just brought up the whole fiasco of her ground team situation.

For some reason the aliens she'd picked up in the wards wanted to come with her to help stop Saren, and Udina had been kind enough to accept their offer on her behalf. **Without** consulting her. **Again**. He was rapidly climbing up her shit list now. Apparently it would look good for humanity to appear to be team players, working with the other species to bring down a mutual threat. She didn't mind Wrex, despite the other humans trying to tell her it was a bad idea; he was a bounty hunter and would turn on her the moment a better offer came his way they claimed, but he was the one she felt most comfortable around. She knew he wouldn't stab her in the back, if he turned on her he'd make sure she could see it coming. It was a style of honesty common among his species that she found refreshing, but for some reason the rest of 'civilized' society found abhorrent. Of course the other commonly known feature of the krogan was their ability to act as bullet sponges, yes he'd make a fine addition to her crew. Yet he was the only one the politician hadn't agreed to. Instead he wanted her to take a damn cop onboard. That was just what she needed, fucking C-sec watching her every move. During her protests it was revealed that he'd quit C-sec, frustrated by all the bureaucratic red tape and impressed by the way her 'unorthodox' handling of Fist had got the job done in record time. That sounded slightly promising, enough of a crack for her to worm her way in and bring him round to her way of thinking but it also sounded like a trap, an attempt to slide someone inside her confidence and collect evidence against her from within. She couldn't trust him, but then again she didn't usually trust anyone anyway so what difference did it make? If worse comes to worst she could always get rid of him later, the Terminus systems were a dangerous place after all.

Then there was Tali... Shepard had nothing against the quarian per se, she was young, competent, naive and without a malicious bone in her body. Which made her question why Anderson hadn't put his foot down to keep her far away from Hamelin. She glanced over at him, he certainly seemed troubled by the idea and it wasn't like him not to stand up for his morals. She decided to give a little push, see what would happen.

"She's still a kid. You really want her on your conscious Sir? Correct me if I misquote but I believe someone once said: 'keep the good ones away from her, they'll be dead or corrupted within a week'?" The response was the equivalent to a full body flinch on anybody else, but with Anderson's level of control it was mitigated to a slight contraction around the eyes, even so it was enough for Shepard to notice. He clearly remembered where that quote came from, a discussion she certainly wasn't supposed to be aware of. If memory served the full declaration had been something along the lines of: 'Give Shepard the psychopaths we can't control and send them to the places we can't win and we'll get results. Just be damn sure before you point her anywhere and keep the good ones away from her, they'll be dead or corrupted within a week.'

"Miss Zorah's skills and knowledge on the geth will prove invaluable and we don't have time to find another expert if we want the mission to succeed." Was the practical response.

"Oh I got no problem taking her. Just making sure you can live with the consequences. However, if I **have** got to take them all then at least make sure they've all signed waivers. I'm not being held responsible by their respective governments or families for the inevitable deaths, maiming or psychological trauma that follows in my wake. Non disclosure agreements as well. If you want me to get results I have to be able to do things my way without worrying about some civilian trying to sue me." They agreed albeit somewhat reluctantly and she moved on to her next demand. "I don't want Alenko on my team."

"You're keeping him." Anderson ordered, "You need a biotic."

"I'll take the krogan."

"He's also the only one who's a trained field medic."

"Come off it! I'm an N7 remember? Villa trained me in frontline trauma care for both humans and aliens."

"Yes but we both know you're not going to put your own ass on the line running over to save someone else's life while under fire."

"So you're saying I should take him because he's stupid?" They could have kept the argument going for another couple of hours if the captain hadn't got a call on his omni-tool. She couldn't hear the other side of the conversation but there was a minuscule shift in Anderson's body language and, expert at reading him that she was, Shepard knew it was tantamount to a full blown self satisfied grin of victory. The smug kind that she always struggled against the desire to punch off a person's face. It didn't fade as he turned to look at her, in fact it almost slipped past his professional mask and onto his face where anybody could see it. _Fuck, now what?_

"Sorry about that Shepard. Trouble at the docks." He stated airily and she felt her insides twist. _Oh hell no, surely not? Double fuck with a side serving of oh shit!_ "Apparently they intercepted a suspicious package from 'Sitra Foundation'. Initial scans were inconclusive and they're requesting authorization to search. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it?" She shrugged nonchalantly but inside she was fuming. _You had one fucking job. Get my gun mods and get my booze and get them on my god damn ship._ Nobody had ever noticed the extra misspelt medical supply crate before. Still, there was no way anything could be traced back to her. All she had to do was play it cool.

"Sorry Sir, you know me and paperwork, I tend to delegate that sort of thing to the requisitions officer." The look in his eyes assured her that 'oh yes, he knew **all** about her and paperwork'.

"Pity. We'll have to shut down the docks while we check it, just in case it's a bomb, someone trying to take down humanity's first spectre on her first day. Then if it's contraband we'll have to launch a full investigation... If you vouched for it we could just wave it through and you, and Lieutenant Alenko and the rest of the Normandy crew could go on your merry way." She was actually speechless. Surely he didn't expect her to fall for that? To admit responsibility and then be brought to account? _No_ , she realised as she analyzed his face for clues. _This is just good old fashioned blackmail and bribery_. So much for him being a boy scout. She knew sometimes you had to pick your battles and for whatever weird reason it didn't look like they were going to budge on this one.

"Never thought I'd see the day Sir." She said tiredly, even when admitting defeat she made sure to keep her words vague enough not be able to be used as evidence against her. ' _The day you'd sink as low as me'_ remaining unsaid.

"I **am** an N7 Shepard, remember?"

"Fine have it your way." She sighed but then her eyes hardened with determination. "I'm taking the krogan though."

...

"Commander? What are your orders Ma'am?" Hamelin broke off from her ruminations to find Pressly watching her expectantly. _What were her orders indeed?_ The Council had tasked her with finding a single turian in an insanely large galaxy and hadn't even had any bright ideas on how to go about it. All she knew was he had an immensely powerful and allegedly never before seen ship (because those popped up without government knowledge or corporate funding all the time), an army of geth (because why the hell not) and the alliance of a powerful matriarch (because they take half their followers and disappear for no discernible reason without anybody asking why on a regular basis as well). She bit back a sigh. With luck the wild goose chase would at least waste a couple of months and hopefully be a good enough excuse to stop the Alliance sending her on random suicide missions. Assuming Saren didn't decide to hold a grudge and hunt her down himself. Of course she did have an advantage in having a stealth ship. The possibilities would have been intriguing if she had a different crew. They were good and loyal men and women one and all. That was the problem. Good like Anderson and loyal to the Alliance. Not to her. Right now when they looked at her they saw the 'Hero of Elysium', she'd have to try and maintain that image as much as possible, if she were to count on their support, at least while she was ship side.

"Head for the Artemis Tau cluster." Pressly nodded and turned back to his console, starting the mysterious and necessary processes needed to carry out her instructions. _Let's see if we can find this archaeologist, one way or another she_ _ **will**_ _answer my questions._


End file.
